


The Letter From Mars

by JingtingWei



Series: Empire of Phalanxia [1]
Category: The Letter From Mars, The Spy - Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, Death, F/F, Future, Mars, Other, Virus, War, Zombies, human exploration, space travel, spion, unnamed Protagonist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:24:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JingtingWei/pseuds/JingtingWei
Summary: This is just an original story that I'm working on. Assuming that this is a  site, I can safely and successfully write without fear or worry that it will ever be read or criticized. I will probably never finish this story, as I usually take a long long long time to write and spend too long on making sure there are the right words, so I guess I'll try go for a chapter a month.





	1. Message 178

_Wednesday January 31st_

_Dear Jordan,_

_They say I have to go to Mars. As the last subject, this is my mission. I don't know how long I will have to stay there, maybe forever. But I will always love you, even though I'd like to break up with you._

_Jordan, you are an amazing person. If we were in different circumstances, I'd like to be your lifelong partner and help support you in your dream here in Falantio, but we both know that in this life, it was not meant to be. The colonisation of Palantina was not a good decision. Although we now have a larger land mass and one less competitor, we also have plenty of starved, malnourished, and dying people to take care of. Living off their dead, I'm surprised that they haven't completely died off yet. They've currently been ordered to govern themselves. Until they gain our trust and we've had enough resources, we cannot start leading them._

_Although you haven't paid much attention to our space science, we actually have managed to recover much of our lost technology from before the world's superpowers disappeared, rehanced it, and improved. Now, it's almost certain that we will be able to travel anywhere between these two planets within the blink of an eye. They've created a teleporter._

_To think that a few hundred years ago, this was classified as fantasy. It's not quite the same thing. Instead of a portal that we go through, like the ideas prophesised, instead we are drugged and cloned. In other words, we're basically committing suicide when using the teleporter. Although our consciousness remains and is transferred to an identical body, we're, kinda dead. And all for the sake of survival. I'm laughing hard as I type this. For humanity's expansion and survival, we kill ourselves. But of course that beats the alternative._

_Despite the advancements, galaxial travel has only become worse and worse manually compared to virtually. Only a 67% of success compared to the 97% in the cloning teleporter. Actually, make that 99%; there was this one idiot who decided to open one of the teleporters while it was still running, these take at least 48 hours to make sure someone has completely passed. The idiot opened it when it had gotten to somewhere around the 30th hour. The sight was absolutely horrible, at least that's what I heard. I know that you're sensitive towards corpses so I'll spare you the details. I know it's weird but I'm telling you not to worry. In the history of testing the teleporter/cloner/whatever-you-call-it on human people, there's been no errors apart from this idiot. Either ways, I'd like to know know you've been. Both of us fit the category for space travel, so we might be able to see each other again sometime. I am called to make my decision now._

_For the Empire,_

_SUBJECT 110801_


	2. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our protagonist gets cloned and sent to Mars.
> 
> Original idea from Julian Baggini's book "Do You Think What You Think You Think"

The screen lags as I try to hit send. How strange.  Message 178. All text pads have a minimum of 30,000 messages before an update or renewal is needed. Damn it.

 

One of the researchers who is in charge of the teleporter eyes me for a moment before leading me by the hand. I hit the button once more hoping that the message went through as I am dragged somewhat forcefully away.

 

"H-hey! Hands off!" I push him off me and straighten my clothes. "I'm going to comply but by my own rules. I need some personal space."

 

"Ok," he nods and walks forward. "But the next time, give me a sign that you're not deaf. We were calling for you for at least a minute."

 

A spark of irritation fills my mind. I consider arguing with him though I doubt that it would change anything. It's my fault, and despite my annoyance showing through my expressions, I can only continue walking towards my mission and complete it.

 

The transportation is on the other side of this facility. That's approximately a 5 minute walk. The halls seem fairly identical so I take the time to study the researcher. He's a subject in my category. Although, one of the luckier ones. Looks like he's in his late 20s or early 30s. An oversized clean white lab coat he seems to shrink into. He's definitely nervous --- his hands are clenched and his breathing is shallow, as if it's his first time teleporting someone, or if he's made a mistake before. Hopefully not the latter, I'd like to keep my body for a while longer.

 

"So, where are we going?" Might as well make some conversation.

 

"You're being sent to transportation. If you have had training before, you can choose between the space ship or the teleporter..." he sounds as if he's reciting this from a script, "... The spaceship will bring supplies for the next month and you are in charge of monitoring its existence and making sure it is uncontaminated when returning it. You may also be in charge of sending people over with it. The teleporter," he coughs and I stop him. He tenses up slightly.

 

"Don't worry, I already know about the teleporter." I smile, at least he's not a complete failure. "How long will the spaceship take?"

 

"It'll take you four months," his eyes avoid my gaze.

 

"Mmmmhmmmnn, no thanks." I stare out of the window and the rocket. If I take that, I'll probably also have to bring some of the people over.  One wrong move and I'd be their murderer. An uncontrollable shiver makes its way across me at that thought. Their lives are literally in my hands. Perhaps choosing to clone myself would be better than to murder against orders. Despite being prepared for it during the colonisation of Palantina, I never had to kill anyone. And neither would I have wanted to.

 

My steps falter as we come to a large metal door. It towers over me with its several locks. I guess the simple electronic passcode was only wishful thinking in the fact that no one was going to sabotage the teleportation process. Now along with a changed passcode, there's also an eye scan and voice detector.

 

He steps towards the door and presses his eyes to the scanner. A faint violet light slivered through the slits, capturing every detail. I really wonder what would happen if the person used contacts, would the scanner still recognise them?

 

"Five seven six, three oh one."

 

The door slides open.

 

I enter the room cautiously. I have seen its contents before, but only after the incident. All of the teleporters had to be removed and checked for any damage. It was an extensive process that took a week before they were safe for use. The cleaners leaving the door open allowed quick peek on to way towards training one day. Not very pleasant. That's all I can describe it as. From rumours, it was believed that only half of his body made it through. They had tried to keep him alive and his screams contained for at least 24 hours before he finally lost consciousness and passed on. I guess the researchers must have been fairly tired, as they had been woken from the smell of his decomposing body the next morning.

 

Instead of the blood and macabre from last time, it resembles a standard research lab or birthing centre. There are long rows and columns of approximately 32 teleporters. Some are empty, others have a pale mist partially obstructing the view. I can still see a body shape through the mist. Albeit my curiosity, perhaps this is for the best. I'm not keen of the reminder that my body will be slowly destroyed and my consciousness transferred to a matching clone. There are also some boxes of supplies on the right side of the room. Stacked halfway across the wall, I now realise that this is more of a storage room, for supplies and corpses, than a research lab. The thought sends shivers through my body and I silently smile at the irony that this may be the last time that this body will feel disgust.

 

He follows me inside before pressing a keypad that seals the door before leaving to set up the teleporter. Any chance of escape has now been minimised greatly. I am not physically strong enough to tackle him. Even if I could manage to knock him out, I'm not too fond of the idea of ripping out his eyes.

 

"Five seven six, three oh nine," the door picks up my whisper and quietly beeps to match my voice, and the keypad flashes red.

 

The door doesn't budge. So there's a voice recogniser as well.

 

Guess this is it then. The researcher calls my number. I oblige silently and leave my last hope at the door. Good bye Earth, my body for the last eighteen years, and Jordan. I wonder if the message got through. I guess that it won't matter anyway. She and I aren't in the same category anyway.

 

I meet the researcher at one of the teleporters. My code "110801" is labelled on the glass with erasable ink. It reminds me of the incubators that premature children were put in. At least, it resembles the photographs. However, the glass entrance is now reinforced with a keypad for passcodes. The sides resemble a metal cage. Although it provides privacy, as observers will only be able to view the body from above and through the mist, it also looks very claustrophobic. My breathing becomes slightly tense at the thought.

 

The researcher seems slightly bored and tired as he explains the process. Jesus, Phalanxia really does overwork its researchers. And I thought being in security was bad.

 

"So here is the procedure: I'll shut you inside the teleporter. Close your eyes and get comfy. It'll just feel like going to sleep. Sleeping gas will be filled and you'll be in an unconscious state for the next two or three days, depending on how long it takes. And when you wake up, you'll be on Mars."

 

"Wait but what about my natural processes?" I suddenly have the urge to run to a bathroom, "Will I be like super hungry or on the verge of death when I wake up?!"

 

"No, you'll be in the same body of the scan that we do once you're asleep," he sighs and brushes his forehead, "Now if you have no more questions then we'll start."

 

He turns to enter the password of the keypad. The bland smell of sanitation fills the air as the lid is lifted, revealing standard white sheets covering a thin mattress. He motions for me to get in then leaves.

 

It's a lot less claustrophobic on the inside then what it looks like from the outside. It's fairly comfy, but it bothers me of how similar it is to a body case. I won't be able to move my arms or turn over. Of course it's just cosmetic, as I probably won't be able to enjoy much of those anyway. A good amount of air is supplied in the mini vents. It's cool and comes out slowly.

 

The researcher comes back with a syringe. It's metal and I can't tell what the contents are. I cry out in objection and shirk back as uses his free arm to grab at my left.

 

"It's just a tracking device," the annoyance slightly seeps through his semi-professional façade. I relax and try not to tense as the needle is pushed into my forearm. It is difficult to adjust to its length as the device is slowly pushed into my bloodstream. I bit back a small cry as it slides out, worsening the pain slightly. Yep, I'm quite a baby. But I dare you to say that again once you've been impaled by a long sharp needle.

 

A sterile band is stuck over the wound that bleeds slightly. Clutching my arm, I lie into the mattress as he closes the lid. I stare through the glass at the lights and fan from the ceiling. I'm definitely not ready for this. This, this decision to lose my body, to die and be cloned. I don't know what I am thinking about. It isn't rational, but then again I'm not too rational either. How does one become perfectly calm while training for war yet cannot comprehend this?! Maybe I've really been too shut in, I've been using my category as an excuse to depend on the government for so long.

 

A generic voice echoes through the teleporter. I guess as a final warning and for support. This only makes my breathing shallower. I'm so not ready.

 

My arm feels warm as the sleeping gas enters through the vents. My reflexes kick in, at least that's what I think that's what it's called. I immediately gasp and hold onto the little air that is left in my lungs. My heart rate quickens as the visible smoke starts to burn my eyes and cover my sides.

 

20 seconds of silent panic and I feel my throat choking. I need air. The gas seems to have covered the majority of my face and body. But I need air. I take a small whiff...

 

Oh god Hell no!! The smoke burns as it makes its way inside of me. Sleeping gas or poison gas, please don't let it be the second  option. Coughing and choking, I jerk and hit my head on the glass. Not as if it distracts me from the pain inside of me. My futile gasps for air backfires as I start banging to be let out.

 

The pain worsens. My body burns as I whimper in pain. I focus my diminishing strength into cracking the glass above me. Just a few more hits and I might make it through.

 

But it seems like my body can't take it anymore. It's burning hot and I feel exhausted. If I was not on the verge of death I would honestly blame fate for being so cruel to me.

 

Am I really ready to die? It's the last thought that crosses my mind before the smoke clouds my vision.

**Author's Note:**

> How does one write [random anime/fandom character] x reader fanfictions? It just seems so difficult trying to make one of the characters represent the fandom community.


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